Not Dead But an Idiot
by VampireNaomi
Summary: Prussia did something that hurt everyone he cares about, and now he has to fix things with the person who matters the most. Prumano.


****I wrote this story because there was so much Prussia death and Prumano angst all over my dash on Tumblr. My older story, _No Goodbyes_, is a much better take on this premise, but I really felt the need to write something like this again after wading through all the angst.

**NOT DEAD BUT AN IDIOT**

Prussia swore under his breath when the rental car he had got in Naples flew over a bump in the uneven road. Based on the clonk he heard, he was pretty sure some part had just fallen off. It was a nice car, and it broke his heart a little that he was treating it that way, but right now there were bigger problems to deal with than scratches on the bottom of his vehicle.

Like a lot of the unfortunate incidents in Prussia's life, this one had started with a night at a bar. He had been out with a few of the guys he didn't always get along with, such as Romania, Netherlands and Denmark. He was pretty sure Poland had been there, too, at least in the beginning. The details had become a little hazy, but what mattered was that there had been a bet.

Someone had got the bright idea to suggest that he should lie low for a while and let everyone think he was dead, just to see what would happen. By the time he had sobered up enough to realise what a shitty idea that was, he had already agreed and promised to let Romania have Gilbird for a week if he failed. Since he didn't want to get the bird back a different size, a different colour, or worse, he couldn't let the magic freak win.

And so he had kept quiet for a while, had ignored everyone's calls and messages and hadn't even gone online so that nobody could track him down. As such, he had missed the panic that his brother, friends and boyfriend had caused when they hadn't found him anywhere, but he had got a pretty good account of it when he had eventually shown his face again.

Germany had got over a dozen grey hairs because of the incident – though Prussia didn't get why he was complaining since he should have been glad his hair was developing a more awesome colour – while France and Spain had promised to never talk to him again if he pulled a stunt like that a second time. Everyone involved in the bet had received an unofficial reprimand, and Prussia had the feeling that it would be a long time before the others would look at him without irritation or open hatred in their eyes.

Good thing he was used to that since it was impossible to be the best and strongest nation in the world without evoking tons of envy from everyone around him, but there was a big problem. One set of eyes was missing from the row of fury.

Romano didn't yet know that the whole thing had been a joke. Upon getting the news of his supposed demise, he had thrown a fit, abandoned all of his work on his brother's shoulders and cut off all contact with the rest of the world. His phone was dead, and he wasn't reading his e-mail. Italy said the boss couldn't reach him either and that his apartment in Rome was empty.

The only reason that Prussia wasn't currently under house arrest in the basement was that they all knew Romano had retreated to his old brick house in the countryside near Roggiano Gravina where the closest neighbours lived over ten kilometres away. He always went there when he was particularly upset. Germany and Italy had agreed it was the best for everyone if Prussia took the fastest flight to Naples and drove over to explain everything.

"He was so sad when he thought you were dead," Italy had argued. "You need to go and make him happy again!"

Normally, Prussia had nothing against making Romano happy. He loved the way he pursed his lips in fake annoyance to hide that he was smiling and how he'd lean against him and pretend that he was only doing it to bug him. And he loved the noises he got when he made Romano really, really happy.

The problem was that he doubted there would be any of that this time. He'd be lucky if Romano didn't slam the door to his face and block it from the inside. He knew he had been a shithead and that he had to apologize, but he wasn't really sure how to go about that. It wasn't something he had a lot of practice with since he didn't like admitting it when he made a mistake.

Finally, after what had been nearly two agonizing hours, he arrived at the house, threw open the car door and stumbled outside. The presence of another car by the shed told him that Romano was definitely there, and he rushed for the door. One of the big downsides of pretending to be dead had been that he hadn't seen or heard from his boyfriend for a while. Romano would probably try to bash his head in the moment he stepped inside, but it was a risk Prussia was willing to take for getting to see him again.

The door wasn't locked, so he pulled it open and poked his head in. No sign of anyone, and no sounds that would have revealed that Romano was inside.

"Hello?" he called out, but there was no reply. He was guided into the kitchen by the strong scents flowing from there. Every room he peeked into on the way was empty. There was nobody in the kitchen either, but the signs of Romano having been there were clear enough.

The fridge was open, proudly displaying at least three different dishes that looked like they had been made that very day. One more was on the kitchen counter, complete with a wooden spoon and ready to be served. One of Romano's favourite plates was on the table, and another one lay shattered on the floor.

Prussia didn't need a lot of time to figure out what had happened. He could imagine Romano cooking enough for a small army like he always did when he was upset, then setting the table for two out of habit, and smashing one of the plates on the floor once he remembered that he was alone.

"Shit, he's going to headbutt me in the stomach once he realises that he broke that for no reason," Prussia muttered after inspecting the shards and coming to the conclusion that there was no way to put them back together. This set of plates was almost a hundred years old and had been a present from some human Romano had liked back then.

Since Romano wasn't in the kitchen, Prussia was pretty sure he'd find him in the bedroom. There was one more room upstairs, but it was only used when Romano had guests over, which wasn't often since the house was his little hiding spot from the rest of the world.

Prussia climbed up the rough stone steps that led upstairs and pushed open the door to Romano's bedroom. The room was dominated by a large bed that was so dark and cracked with age that Prussia was always expecting it to break whenever they were both lying on it.

"Romano?" he called out when he spotted the other's form on the bed. There was no reply, and when he stepped closer, he saw it was because Romano was asleep. He was facing the wall and lay curled up in a blanket that covered most of his body. It was such an unnatural position for him to sleep in. Romano was supposed to take up most of the bed and have his limbs pointing in every direction so that whoever was sharing the bed with him had a hard time getting comfortable.

Prussia sat down on the edge of the bed and wondered if he should poke at Romano until he woke up. He looked absolutely miserable with the way he was clutching the blanket to his chest and frowning to himself in his sleep.

"I guess I've been a pretty shitty boyfriend for letting you feel this way," Prussia muttered and reached out to brush some of Romano's hair off his face. "But I'll make it up to you! Soon you won't even remember that this ever happened!"

He supposed he could start with providing Romano with the best cuddling in the world when he woke up. The other was always grumpy if his sleep was interrupted, so Prussia figured he'd just let him sleep for now and wake up in the arms of his amazing boyfriend from beyond the grave. It would be such a lovely surprise that Romano probably wouldn't be too angry about the whole thing.

* * *

There were arms around him, pulling him close. The comforting feeling of warmth and not being alone filled Romano's mind as he began to drift awake. It was Prussia. Prussia was holding him. He recognized his scent (which he always called a stench to his face), and everything was suddenly so right that it was nearly painful.

But it was only a dream. Prussia wasn't really there. He was gone, and this was only a pathetic hallucination conjured by his lonely mind. But fake or not, it was a wonderful delusion, and Romano didn't want it to end yet.

No, no, no, dammit, he thought as he could feel his mind grow more alert. He didn't want to wake up yet. Just a little bit longer. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to relax in the hold of those arms, to melt into the body against his so that he wouldn't have to acknowledge that it was only the blanket and maybe an old pillow.

Back when Prussia had been alive, Romano would have never admitted it out loud, but he liked cuddling like this. He had always grumbled about it, but the truth was that sometimes he had been looking forward to it more than to the sex that usually came beforehand. It was such a liberating feeling to love someone so much that he could relax like that and know that he loved him back just as strongly.

Prussia had been loud, annoying, a pain in the ass and crude beyond Romano's limit, but he had understood him on a level that only few did and had known how to comfort him when he was upset. Arguing with him had been fun (most of the time, at least), and it had never made Romano feel like an elephant in a porcelain shop, unlike when he fought with others.

He didn't know if that was because Prussia made him a better person or because they were dumbasses of equal proportions, but he supposed it didn't matter anymore. Prussia was gone, just like tha2t. Poof. Like he had never fucking been there. He had just been out with some guys, and then he was gone. There had been no warning signs, no change in his personality or physical appearance. Germany hadn't noticed anything. There had been no great political or cultural changes in the country that should have caused this.

It wasn't fucking fair. The time they had been together had been nothing but the blink of an eye to beings who were over a thousand years old. Why couldn't it have lasted a little bit longer? He already missed everything about him, like how rough his hair was, how smug he looked when he thought he had tricked Romano into eating something with potatoes in it even though Romano had done it on purpose to indulge him, and even his horrid snoring that shook the house and –

Wait, the snoring was here, right in this dream. It sounded like a lawn mower had been turned on right next to his ear. And now that he was paying attention, he was pretty sure he could feel a trickle of drool sliding down his neck. The dream was getting pretty damn realistic.

He opened his eyes. The shutters were closed, leaving the room dim, but he didn't need any light to feel that the body behind him hadn't disappeared anywhere even though he was most definitely fully awake now. His heart stuck in his throat, he wriggled free of the arms around him and crawled to the bedside table. His hands shook as he switched on the light and turned to look back at the other person on the bed.

For a moment, Romano was sure that he'd never be able to draw another breath. He was dizzy and felt ready to faint as he reached out to run his fingers through that pale, scratchy hair. It was just like he remembered it, and the familiar feeling against his palms was so powerful that he couldn't help but lurch forward and bury his face against Prussia's shirt.

He was back. Romano didn't know how or why or how long, but he was here now, and he could touch him and he was warm against him and making sounds and moving and – and now he was trying to sit up, and Romano responded to it by forcing his arms between him and the mattress and throwing all of his weight on him to make him stop.

"Hey, what are you doing? You're crushing me!"

"I don't care! You aren't going anywhere!"

"I just want to sit!"

"No! You're an asshole like Grandpa, and he's always out the door before he has even said hello. I'm not letting you go even if I have to sit on you until the end of the world!"

"But I'm not planning to go anywhere."

"Oh, yeah? Well, that's what you –" Romano's voice broke as an involuntary sob was torn from his throat, and he didn't even try to hide his face. Everyone had seen him cry his eyes out the past few weeks, so it shouldn't matter if he added Prussia to the list. "...that's what you said before you fucking went and died, asshole!"

"Okay, I think we need to get one thing cleared up. So – "

"I can't believe you! If you were going to fade away, why didn't you do it when it would have made some goddamn political sense? Why wait until now when I'm going to miss you?"

"Romano, listen –"

"And your stupid brother was so pathetic last time I saw him. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to have to look at him when his face is even uglier than usual because he's so miserable? No, of course not! Because you only ever think about yourself and –"

"Romano!"

Prussia's impatient tone stopped Romano's angry tirade, and he lifted his face from the other's shirt to look at him.

"What?"

"I'm not dead."

God, Prussia was such a dork. He was so determined to make him feel better that he'd even throw such an obvious lie to his face that even Spain wouldn't fall for it. Normally, it might have been endearing, but right now it was nothing but rubbing salt into a gaping wound.

"Of course you're dead. Why else would you disappear for weeks and not contact anyone?"

A familiar look briefly crossed Prussia's face. It was the look he usually wore when tried to help him with the pasta and totally screwed it, when he forgot about their date because he was playing video games or when he got so drunk that he slipped details about their sex life to people who didn't need that information, like France. It was a look of shame and guilt, and the seeds of doubt slowly began to sprout in the back of Romano's mind.

"You aren't dead?" he asked, not yet daring to hope.

"Nope, I'm perfectly fine. Have never felt better."

"I swear to God, if you're lying –"

"I'm not! I don't know how to prove it, so you're just going to have to believe me!"

Romano knew that even an inconsiderate asshole like Prussia wouldn't lie to him about something like that while looking at him with such earnest eyes. It had to be true. He really was here. He had never been gone in the first place. It had been just a misunderstanding, or maybe an evil plot or –

Relief washed over him, and he dashed to capture Prussia's lips in an overjoyed kiss, ignoring his muffled cry of surprise. He didn't care that he was crying again and out of breath, making the kiss sloppy and wet and something that he would have normally considered an insult to his talents as a lover.

"But what happened? Did someone kidnap you or what?" he asked.

"Uh, no. I was actually in Romania the whole time."

"Romania? Why? Did he turn you into a frog and you were too ashamed to show your face?"

That look was on Prussia's face again, and Romano got the feeling that whatever the answer was going to be, he was not going to like it. As much as he wanted to smother him in kisses and never stop, he forced himself to sit up and put some distance between them.

"Remember when I last went out?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, we kind of got really drunk, and then someone has this idea that we should see how long it would take for everyone to think I'm dead if I just disappeared for a while and –"

"Are you fucking telling me that you did this on purpose? That you pretended to be dead just to fuck with us?"

"I wouldn't really put it like that," Prussia said, squirming a little on the bed. "But basically, yeah."

Romano didn't know what to say. He had been ready for pretty much any bullshit explanation because dating Prussia had taught him that nothing was impossible for him, but this was too much even by his standards. He wanted to yell at him or hit him, just to show how angry he was, but he found that he didn't have the energy for that.

"Why?" he asked tiredly. "Why would you do that?"

"There was a bet! If I didn't, I would have had to hand over Gilbird for a while, and I couldn't do that to him! And the awesome Prussia doesn't back down after agreeing to a bet, so it would have ruined my reputation if I had done it!"

A bet. He had done it because a goddamn bet. If that was supposed to calm him down, it had the complete opposite effect.

"So your stupid reputation is so important to you that you'd let me and everyone else think you're dead? Did you even stop to think how we had to be feeling?"

"Yeah, but since I'm not really dead, I figured it would all work out in the end!"

"We looked for you everywhere! Do you have any idea how scared everyone was? We all thought you were dead! I actually had to watch your brother cry, and that was such a pathetic sight that I never want to... and I mean... I..." Romano trailed off, too angry to find the words. However, he forced himself to continue because his voice was shaking and he was sure he'd start crying again if he didn't keep talking. "I thought you were gone. If you care so little about my feelings that you'd let me be miserable beyond words for so long because your fucking ego can't let you turn down a bet, I guess you don't really give a shit about me after all."

He couldn't bring himself to feel guilty about the hurt that briefly flashed in Prussia's eyes.

"No, that's not it!"

"Then why did you do it? Did you think we wouldn't care?"

"I didn't think everyone would take it so seriously! It was meant to be just a joke!"

"Well, I hope it'll keep you entertained for a while because I'm not going to be talking to you in the near future! Get out!"

"What?"

"Or on second thought, do whatever the hell you want because I'm going out. And don't you dare follow me!"

Romano pushed his way past Prussia and marched to the door, slamming it shut behind him so hard that he was pretty sure it splintered, and ran down the stairs. The sight of the mess he had made in the kitchen only fuelled his anger, and before he even realised what he was doing, he had made it on top of one of the numerous hills that surrounded his house.

He turned to look back. The fact that Prussia wasn't following him was both a relief and a disappointment. Right now he didn't know what he wanted to do to him. It had been such a wonderful feeling to know that he wasn't gone after all (how many times over the past few weeks had he prayed that he would come back?), but what he had done hurt so much that even though he still loved him, just thinking about him made him want to throw up.

"That fucking, selfish asshole," he muttered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he continued walking. He didn't know where he was going, not that it mattered since there was nothing but hills and olive trees for at least ten kilometres. He just kept walking, hands clenched into fists, until his feet hurt and his breathing had grown laboured. After a while, he collapsed under an ancient olive tree, closed his eyes, dug his fingers into the ground and breathed in the scent of the grass.

Good God, he didn't know what to feel right now. All of his emotions were tied in such a tight knot that he wasn't sure how he'd get them sorted out. He tore out some of the grass in frustration, trying not to think about how much the texture reminded him of Prussia's hair and how much he wanted to pull him close now that he had him back – because Prussia clearly didn't care about him anywhere near as much as he cared about him, and this was such a shitty way to find that out. He would have rather been dumped than gone through a few weeks of hell, only to be told that his hurt was so irrelevant to him.

"And I can't even hate him right," he muttered. The dominant feeling was still relief. He wanted to punch him and then kiss it better and make him swear he'd never do something like that again, but since it was Prussia they were talking about, there was no guarantee of that. But he loved him just the way he was and didn't want him to change and... Dammit, he was such a masochist. When had his taste in partners taken such a nosedive?

He didn't know how long he lay there, but when he sat up, the sun was already in the process of disappearing behind the horizon. The winter wasn't quite over yet, so it was getting cooler than was comfortable, and he could feel the coldness climbing up his skin through his clothes. The thought of his bed and maybe a glass of wine was damn tempting right now.

It was dark by the time he returned to the house. There was light in the windows, and Prussia's car was still parked on the path leading to the yard. Romano frowned in irritation at the relief that washed through him, and he made sure he looked as cranky as possible when he stepped inside.

Prussia had put away the pieces of the broken plate and set the table properly. He was sitting at it, poking absent-mindedly at the pasta on his plate.

"Who told you that you can take my food?" Romano asked as he entered.

"I haven't eaten anything since I got on the plane in Berlin. I'm hungry."

"You don't look like it. You haven't even tasted it."

"I was waiting for you to come back."

"Oh, so now you get considerate. It's a bit too late, bastard."

"And what's that supposed to mean? Are you going to dump me?"

The question caught Romano off guard. He hadn't thought about it that far, but he suddenly felt very tempted to say yes, just so that he'd get to see the hurt look on Prussia's face. It wouldn't be anything like what he had been through, but it would be a start.

"You're damn lucky that I'm not a selfish piece of shit like you or else I'd be saying yes and not taking it back until next month! I'd really like to see how you like being on the receiving end of the kind of crap you just pulled."

"So, that means you aren't dumping me?"

"I only said I wouldn't lie to you about it. I can still do it for real."

Prussia opened his mouth but then closed it again without saying a word. He let out a defeated sigh and returned to poking his pasta. Romano did his best to find some satisfaction in getting to see the so called awesome Prussia look that defeated, but it only brought a sour taste to his tongue. He couldn't stand to look at him like that, but he also didn't want to comfort him.

"I'm going to bed," he announced and marched past Prussia towards the stairs.

"Can I –"

"You're going to stay in the guestroom if you know what's good for you. You aren't allowed anywhere near my bed until I say so."

"But –"

"No."

Romano stepped into his room, noticing that the door had indeed been damaged by his earlier outburst. He threw himself on the bed and rolled over to face the ceiling. Even though Prussia was right there a floor below, the room suddenly felt much lonelier now than a few hours ago when he had still thought he was dead.

* * *

Romano woke up, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He blinked, trying to remember why he was feeling like shit and why he was sleeping in his clothes. He couldn't remember if he'd dreamt of something, but the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach was a sure sign that something was wrong.

He'd gone to bed earlier that day because of the damn plate, and then Prussia had come and –

He sat up, eyes darting from one corner of the room to another in panic. Had Prussia really been there, or had he imagined the whole thing? Maybe it had been just a dream his pitiful mind had come up with in desperation? He was still wearing the same clothes, so maybe it wasn't real after all.

He had to be sure. If he didn't find out this very instant, this fear that was suddenly making his heart beat faster would drive him crazy. He jumped out of bed and ran for the door, wrenching it open and stepping into the dark hallway.

The guestroom was on the other end of the house. It wasn't a long way since the building wasn't big, but the some dozen steps that it took to reach it felt like a hundred. And yet when he arrived at the door, his mouth was suddenly dry, and he was afraid to push the door open.

What if Prussia wasn't there? This wouldn't be the first time he woke up thinking that he wasn't dead, only to remember that he was gone. The other dreams hadn't been as vivid as the latest, but maybe that was just the first sign of him going insane with sorrow.

He tried to listen if there were any sounds coming from the room. If Prussia was there, he should have been able to hear his ungodly snoring. But there was only silence, and his hopes began to sink as he realised that there would probably be nothing but an empty room waiting for him behind the door.

"Are you going to come in, or are you going to stand there for the rest of the night?"

At first it didn't even register that he had heard the voice, but then he pushed the door open with a bang. He couldn't bring himself to step in but remained glued at the entrance, staring at the figure on the bed. The only light was coming from his bedroom, so it was almost dark, but the voice had already revealed that he hadn't imagined anything.

"Man, are you planning to destroy every door in this house or what?" Prussia asked, sitting up.

"Why... why aren't you asleep, stupid? It's fucking three in the morning!"

"Well, why are you spying on me through the door?"

Romano couldn't be bothered to answer. He was still angry, but everything that he had said earlier suddenly felt petty and stupid. He made his way across the room and crawled into the bed, ignoring Prussia's surprised yelp at being shoved aside.

"I thought you said I can't be in the same bed as you."

"I said you can't come to my bed. I never said I can't come to yours," Romano replied grumpily, fumbling for the covers in the dark.

"I guess I don't want to argue with that, but... there's one thing."

"And what's that?"

"Are you going to sleep in those? Because that shirt is pretty scratchy."

Right, he was still fully clothed, Romano realised. And Prussia wasn't, but he didn't really care about that right now. Sex was the last thing on his mind.

"No, stupid. I'll take it off, but don't get any funny ideas. I'm still angry at you."

He tossed his clothes on the floor, lay back on the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. He said nothing and kept staring stubbornly at the dark ceiling, not sure what he should do next. It was almost a relief when he felt Prussia's hand sneak to grab his, and he didn't shove it away.

"Are you even sorry?" he asked.

"Of course I am!"

"For what?"

"What do you mean, for what?"

"You can't be sorry if you don't even know what you did wrong!"

"Hey, I know that I shouldn't have gone along with the bet. I didn't really even want to, but I had to think of Gilbird, okay?"

"And your fucking pride."

"That, too. Everyone would have laughed at me if I had backed down!"

"No, they would have thought that you're a decent person and actually have a few brain cells for not letting your brother, boyfriend and friends think that you're gone! For someone who claims to be the best strategist in the world, you have no concept of cause and effect!"

"Now that's not really fair!"

"I thought you were dead!" Romano clutched at Prussia's hand so hard that he was sure it hurt, but he didn't care. "I thought I'd never see you again, that you'd never call me in the middle of the night or force me to watch your stupid movies or eat all of my gelato or –"

"But I'm here. The awesome is not gone!"

Prussia leaned against him, and the feeling of his head on his shoulder silenced Romano's rant.

"But I thought you were," he muttered, his throat tight. "It was the most horrible feeling in the world, and it's all your fault for making me feel it! I hate you for that!"

"But I'm sorry!" Prussia insisted. "I'll do whatever you want to make up for it! Just name your price! I'll wear those silly clothes you always buy for me. I'll even stop asking you to cook potatoes for me!"

"No, stupid. That's not good enough."

"Then what? There's something I can do, right?" Prussia asked, and Romano could hear a hint of panic in his voice. He felt a little guilty about his earlier desire to see him hurt.

"Yeah," he said and moved his other hand to stroke Prussia's hair. "You're going to have to be there for me and keep me warm whenever I tell you to."

"And for how long?"

"Forever."

Prussia let out an amused bark of laughter. "No problem! Then you'll stop hating me, right?"

"Can't make any promises. You piss me off every day. You're just damn lucky that I love you more than I hate you."

"I'll take that as a challenge. By the end of the centu – no, by the end of the decade, you'll love me so much that you've forgotten what the word hate means!"

"Tch! Yeah, right!"

"And I'm starting now!"

Romano let out a surprised yelp when Prussia's head shot up to kiss him. He missed a little in the dark, only capturing the corner of his mouth, but the next kiss was placed right where it was meant to be.

"I'm not in the mood," Romano said once he could talk.

"We don't have to do anything. I just wanted to remind you of what an amazing kisser I am."

"Hah! Out of the two of us, I'm the one who's better! Always have been!"

And then, despite his earlier disinterest, Romano pulled Prussia close to prove his words.


End file.
